A few minutes later, I hear the beep of the microwave. Getting my milk, I head to the living room. I can’t wait to talk to my therapist and tell her about how I handled this, leaving out the message of course. My very own little breakthrough.
I will not let cutting define me.
I plop down in the chair at my desk, debating over reaching out to see if Holden or Nash are awake. Maybe Roman? Anything to have my mind on something else. Opening my laptop, I power it on and wait for it to come to life. I blow on the steaming liquid before I take a slow sip, not wanting to burn my tongue. My nails clink on the mug, playing a melodic beat that I can’t help but hum to. Opening up my school messaging program, I bite my lip. My eyes drift down to the bottom of the screen. It’s two am. Are they awake? Should I even message? My fingers are gliding over the keyboard before I even have a chance to overthink my choice.
To Nash: Are you awake? I could really use one of your corny jokes right now.
But I don’t stop there.
To Holden: Are you awake?
Then as if I’m begging for someone to question me about who I am, I pull out my burner phone. I know the answer about whether Roman went to the club looking for another fight already. Both Nash and Holden told me.
Me: Did you use the information I sent you to out the lies to everyone? Or did you go to the club looking for another fight?
To my astonishment, he answers right away.
Roman: I’m planning to hold on to that little bit of information. I’m sure there will be a perfect time to share it, but right now isn’t it. Are you planning to vet all my opponents if I do?
I want to tell him that I’d do anything he wanted. But I don’t. I can’t even believe I’m thinking that.
Me: I can if you need me to. Wouldn’t want someone to beat you.
Roman: LOL. No one will ever beat me.
It’s as if I can hear his laughter. He laughed once here while he was working, and the sound was infectious.
Me: You’re pretty confident about that.
Roman: I’m honest.
I can’t help but smile. I tap the space bar, bringing my screen back to life to see if H0lden or Nash have responded, but theyhaven’t. My spirit drops a bit, but I know it’s late, and they’re probably sleeping.
I don’t reply. I don't know what else to say. What reason can I give him should he ask why I’m messaging him? So I sit there, slowly drinking my milk, letting its warmth soothe and relax me.
Eventually, I call it a night for the second time and head back to bed. Hopefully, sleep consumes me this time.
***
The morning light cuts through the slit in the curtains, cascading over my face. My eyes flutter open, and I have to squint because the brightness is so painful. There’s a pounding percussion of drums in my head, making me wince, my stomach churning so badly I fear I may hurl.
I roll over, pulling the blankets over my head as my hand aimlessly searches for my favorite stuffy. I can’t help but moan as cramps assault my stomach, feeling as if they’re trying to claw their way out of me like the alien did to Ripley inAlien.
“Fucking heat,” I grumble, wishing I had a heating pad right now. Or an alpha knot. Flashes of my first heat assault my vision, causing me to cringe as tears slide down my cheek, dripping onto my pillow.
I’m so scared. Can I do this? Trust a pack to help me through my heat. A part of me wants to beg Torin and the guys to help me, but that’s the needy omega part of me. The sad part is I know they would if I asked them, but I can’t. Just the thought is gross. It would be like asking Storm.No thank you.
I give myself another fifteen minutes to have my pity party before getting out of bed. It’s time to pack, and I’m hungry. I dig in my dresser find some leggings and a baggy sweatshirt, and head over to the main house, crossing my fingers that the guyshave cooked. Josh normally does on Saturday mornings and it’s typically French Toast.My favorite.
When I open the front door, the familiar scent of cinnamon and maple envelops me and I can’t help but moan. If it smells this delicious, I already know it’s going to taste amazing.
“There better be a plate for me,” I shout, making my way into the kitchen.
“It’s already made and waiting for you,” Josh replies, and I smile widely.
Just as I step into the kitchen, arms wrap around me, causing me to yelp, as I’m lifted off the floor and swung around in a circle.
“Put me down,” I manage to get out in between laughter.
